


I Love You

by wallywesticle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9926312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallywesticle/pseuds/wallywesticle
Summary: “Should I taste it now and tell you if it’s wrong?” He was asked. He tapped his fingers on the countertop angrily, trying his best to bite his tongue and keep from saying something snarky.Biting his tongue did not work.“How about I piss in a cup and you just drink that?” Koenraad’s face was blank for a brief moment but soon his lips curled into an arrogant smile that Niklas found far too attractive for his own liking, and he chuckled.“You’re bold, Niklas, i’ll give you that.” He grabbed both cups and left then.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Niklas - Norway  
> Koenraad - Netherlands  
> Dmitri - Romania  
> Sarmis - Bulgaria  
> Mikkel - Denmark  
> Lise - Belgium  
> Luca - Luxembourg  
> Dagfinnur - Iceland
> 
> Words: 16,039

When his brother told him he was going to be moving away for college, Niklas felt he had no choice but to follow. A fresh start, he had told Dagfinnur when the younger had asked him why he planned to move. Though his statement was true, he left it unsaid that he was worried for his brother to be far away without him. They had depended on each other for a very long time, and though he knew Dagfinnur was competent of taking care of himself, there was a part of him that knew he needed his little brother more than he’d like to admit. Niklas was able to find a house close by the university, and they immediately began to pack their belongings.

 

“What are you going to do all day, Niklas?” His brother had asked, folding a throw blanket idly and placing it inside a box labeled ‘living room’. Niklas shrugged.

 

“Well, there’s not really a coffee shop around where we’ll be living. I figure we’d bring in a bunch of revenue being the only one.” 

 

“You have a bachelor’s in business and instead of finding another CEO job, you decide to open up a coffee shop?” Niklas chuckled a little at his brother’s appalled tone, wrapping up a snow globe his cousin had given him as gift after visiting Finland.

 

“Yes. This is a smart business plan, Dag. Think about it. College kids, working people, no coffee unless they make it themselves. I open a coffee shop, people celebrate they no longer have to drink shitty home-brewed coffee, and I make lots of money. Plus, i’ll be my own boss.” Dagfinnur tapped his fingers on the box.

 

“What about employees? I can’t work for you often if I’m at school.”

 

“Dmitri moved to where we’re going a few months back. Don’t you remember? I know for a fact he’ll be thrilled to work for me instead of the woman he’s currently working for. He really hates her. Something about how she seems to have a personal vendetta against him or whatever. Anyhow, problem solved. You don’t even have to work. Unless you just want to spend extra time with your big brother. I would be delighted.” 

 

Dagfinnur scoffed, “don’t get your hopes up.” Niklas laughed and taped up another box.

* * *

 

Their move had gone smoothly. The trucks transporting their things had managed to arrive before they did, and not a single box was damaged or lost. They spent the next three days unpacking and making the new house feel more like a home as well as visiting Dagfinnur’s university. On the fourth day, Niklas had found the perfect building to start his shop and wasted no time in purchasing it as well as many items necessary to be sure his business would flourish. 

 

Dagfinnur hadn’t the time to help set up shop. He left that for Niklas while he signed up for classes and made sure to find each building he’d be taught in. By the time he had a chance to help with anything, Niklas was nearly finished.

 

“Books?” He asked, “what is this? A coffee shop library?” Niklas snorted.

 

“Dmitri helped set the place up, and he said he had a bunch of books he wouldn’t mind donating here for people to read while they get coffee. I didn’t think it was that bad of an idea. Besides, I think it makes the place look homely.”

 

“When did you get a hold of Dmitri?”

 

“A week ago,” a cheerful voice said. It wasn’t but a moment later he was greeted by a warm smile and firm handshake from the strawberry-brunette. “I told Niklas to call me when you both got here, but we both know how well he listens.” Dagfinnur watched his brother roll his eyes.

 

“Anyhow, Dmitri brought in box after box of books- I thought it was his whole library. He assured me it wasn’t- and they all fit perfectly on the extra shelves. It fits in with the atmosphere, too.” Niklas gave the place a quick onceover and felt a sense of pride. The place had honestly turned out a little better than imagined. It was clean, rustic, fresh. The colours of the walls were rich shades of blues and purples, contrasting with the dark wooden floors and tables. Each table had their own tealights, something Niklas didn’t really find classy but more welcoming, cozy. Fairy lights wound their way down the bookshelves, casting gentle white light along the spines of the books. 

 

The countertop was made of marble, a more expensive choice but definitely worth it. Behind the counter were multiple shelves that housed several saucers and teacups. They were simple, pure white china. Blue and purple mugs sat next to them on another shelf. Niklas had been careful to keep the to-go cups hidden. When Dmitri had asked him why, he had told him they didn’t look right for the theme. Dmitri, still unsure of what the theme exactly was, just nodded and helped hide them next to the register. Out of sight, out of mind. 

 

“What do you think of the place, Dagfinn? Think we’re ready to open?” Dagfinnur let his eyes roam the room slowly. After a long moment of analyzing the place, he nodded.

 

“It looks nice. Exactly how i’d expect you to decorate a place. Just one question. How are you going to get people in? I mean, I know people are going to flock to a new coffee place, but how are you going to get people to know you’re open?” 

 

“Free samples,” Dmitri blurted. Niklas turned his head, staring at his friend in confusion.

 

“Free samples,” Dmitri repeated, “going door-to-door to these other businesses, bringing them small samples of our tea and coffee. Best way to get people in, right? They try a taste, end up liking it, and come by for a full cup, maybe even some baked goods. I know you said something about making muffins and scones.” Niklas nodded.

 

“Actually, that’s a good idea. Take samples to surrounding businesses. I can’t believe you didn’t go to business school, Dmitri.” His friend just grinned at him, laughing a bit at the comment and waving him off. Dagfinnur cleared his throat.

 

“Alright, you take free samples of coffee to these other businesses. Not a bad idea, I guess. You could probably take some to the university, too. I’ve told a few students there about it, and I know they’re interested. You’d think people just love to spend their money on coffee.” Niklas snorted, ruffling his brother’s hair much to his protests.

 

“How sweet, telling people about your big brother’s business. I just love how much you care about me, bror. I know this place will be thriving because of you.” He extended his hand to mess up Dagfinnur’s hair further, but he had ducked out of the way, making haste to the door.

 

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you at home.”

* * *

 

Niklas and Dmitri had arrived to the coffee shop precisely three hours prior to its’ opening. They spent that extra time baking scones and muffins, cleaning the floors, tables and counters once again, and making up samples of several different teas and coffees, making sure to label their portion cups so there were no questions about what was what. When it came time to open, they felt completely prepared. 

 

“Dmitri, do you want to take the samples?” Dmitri tapped his fingers on the countertop.

 

“Wouldn’t you want to? It seems more personal if the owner goes door-to-door, doesn’t it? Besides, we agreed i’d always be frontman of this place. You’d prefer to make the drinks. There’s not that many shops around here. You’ll be fine.” Niklas frowned, knowing either way he’d have to get over his shyness and talk to people. He breathed out, picked up the tray, and left his shop, heading next door.

 

Giving out free samples had been just as successful as Dmitri had said it would. The man three buildings down that sold frozen yogurt had told him to expect him in the shop later for a pick-me-up. The man across the street, two buildings down, had promptly told his coworker he’d be back in a couple of minutes and went straight to the coffee shop. Niklas was pleasantly surprised and extremely thankful. When he left the building across the street, one spot down, he noticed a couple of customers standing idly by the counter, being charmed by Dmitri. He smiled a little and headed next door, into the flower shop across the street.

 

Upon entering, he was greeted by lovely, bright colours and sweet scents. He heard a very gruff “welcome” to his right, and he turned his head to get a good look at the man at the register. He was tall, very tall, and he had some of the greenest eyes Niklas had ever seen. His hair was a dirty blonde, dirty enough some might call it brown, and there was a scar on his forehead. Despite being the face of the store, so to speak, the man held no kindness in his eyes. In fact, he seemed to lack any emotion altogether. His eyebrows were raised just slightly, lips pursed tightly together. His resting face is worse than mine, Niklas thought absently.

 

Though the man had yet to say more than one word to him, Niklas felt strangely intimidated. He wanted nothing more than to just walk right out of the store and pretend he had never seen this stranger. His jaw clenched when the man sighed, tapping his fingers on the counter.

 

“Can I help you? Do you usually just walk into a store and stare at the people working?” He heard some rustling somewhere nearby and shortly a woman with curly hair the same colour as the man’s appeared and slapped him lightly on the arm.

 

“Koenraad, don’t be so rude. Mikkel had just called and said something about a really good coffee shop and how the owner was going door-to-door to hand out samples. This must be him.” She turned her attention from the man, Koenraad, and smiled warmly. “Hello, i’m Lise, and this is my brother, Koenraad.” 

 

It took a few seconds for Niklas to process that this man who looked ready to murder anyone that crossed his path had a sister so kind and warm. It took even longer for him to realize she was speaking to him. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

 

“Hello, yes, sorry. I was- there’s a lot to look at in here. I’m Niklas. I own the coffee shop across the street. I was just bringing in samples of our tea and coffee for everyone to try. Since we just opened today, we figured this would be the best way to meet new people and build up a clientele. Can I interest you both in either?” Lise wasted no time grabbing a sample of tea, chamomile, Niklas had spotted, and she also grabbed a sample of the black coffee to hand to her brother. He had stared at it for a few seconds before reluctantly taking it from her hand and drinking it. She had smiled a little, sipping her own sample before turning to Niklas.

 

“I’m so picky about tea, and I have to say, that’s probably the best tasting chamomile i’ve had.” He felt a sort of pride at her praise, and he thanked her, eyes flickering over to Koenraad who had been silent for far too long. The man glanced over at his sister and then met eyes with Niklas who fought the urge to sneer at him.

 

“The coffee was pretty weak,” he mumbled, earning another swat on the arm from his sister followed by some sort of scolding in a language he didn’t understand. Niklas narrowed his eyes, ready to spout off some snarky comment in retaliation. Instead, he took in a deep breath, calming himself before speaking.

 

“Well, i’ll make sure to get it right next time. Pleasure meeting you both. Drop by anytime.” He promptly turned and left, walking across the street and back into his shop, heading right behind the counter to help Dmitri finish off some drinks. He noticed one of the customers to be the man from the frozen yogurt place, and he couldn’t help but smile when he laughed at one of Dmitri’s dumb puns and Dmitri beamed at him. 

 

The rest of the day went by fairly quick. They had seen a steady stream of customers, many of whom were from the businesses Niklas had visited, and Dagfinnur had come by after class with two friends (Niklas could have cried) and drank coffee while they chatted and did homework at a table. Meanwhile, Dmitri and Niklas cleaned up, preparing for the end of the day. 

 

Before they closed, Lise stopped in, holding a vase of pink tulips and white  alstroemeria. Niklas complimented her on the arrangement, and she offered him a bright smile.

 

“They’re for you,” she told him, placing the vase on the counter. He looked at her in confusion, taking the vase and putting it on an empty shelf next to the mugs and teacups. 

 

“For me? Why for?” She leaned against the counter.

 

“For my brother being so rude to you. He’s not that good with strangers.”

 

“Oh,” Niklas replied flatly, “that’s okay. You didn’t have to make up a flower arrangement to apologize for him. Besides, i’m not good with strangers either.” She stood up straight again, smiling bright at him.

 

“I didn’t make that arrangement. He did.” She didn’t allow him another word. She simply waved at he and Dmitri both before leaving the store and trekking across the street. Dmitri broke the silence with a harsh laugh,

 

“Sounds like the florist has a crush on you, Niklas. Did you bat your pretty lashes at him?” Niklas glared at him, telling him to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to keep this job. He only laughed louder.

* * *

 

The proceeding weeks had been monotonous, if not boring for Niklas and Dmitri. The shop was bringing in good business, and they already had a couple of regulars they knew by name and order. Dagfinnur had started helping at the shop two times a week after school with his friend, Leon, and Niklas enjoyed the easy work. Currently, he was adding fresh chocolate scones to the glass case on the counter, greeting the yogurt man, Sarmis, when he entered.

 

“Hello, Sarmis. The regular?” Dmitri asked, smile wide and genuine. Sarmis returned it almost shyly, nodding his head. Niklas moved from the case and went to make the beverage, a latte with three shots of espresso, while his partner chatted with him. 

 

“I was wondering,” Sarmis said hesitantly, “if you’d like to get dinner sometime. I could pick you up from here after work?” Niklas bit the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling, waiting on his friend to respond. Dmitri made a surprised noise.

 

“Yeah, of course! Does tomorrow work for you?” His response was rushed, and Niklas could tell he was nervous from the way his voice wavered slightly. Sarmis had nodded, grabbed his drink Niklas had sat on the counter, and hurried off. Dmitri all but collapsed against the counter, and Niklas began to laugh. 

 

“You have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for him to ask you out. I swear, Dmitri, he looks at you longingly every time he’s in here. You’d think he’s lovesick for you.” Dmitri smacked his arm, making a ‘tsk’ sound as he straightened back up.

 

“You think you’ve waited a long time? I’ve waited a long time. I thought for sure he was straight and just wanted to be buds. I can’t believe he asked me to dinner. I could faint. Oh, Niklas, i’ll need the rest of the night off just to recuperate.” Niklas rolled his eyes, wadding up a napkin and tossing at his friend’s head, receiving a laugh in retort. 

 

It was nearly three o’clock before they had seen another customer. The door had swung open and heavy footsteps made their way to the counter. Dmitri greeted whoever it was and asked for the order. When a familiar voice ordered chamomile tea and black coffee, Niklas paused from cleaning one of the machines, turning around.

 

From their first meeting, Niklas had assumed he’d never catch sight of Koenraad in his store. Despite the fact that his sister had brought an arrangement in as an apology from him (which Niklas still suspected was all her doing), he assumed the man hated his guts and would never step foot inside his store. Dmitri turned, asking Niklas if he had heard the order. Niklas nodded, turning back around to start on the tea. His friend took his place in cleaning the machine.

 

“I hope you’re an honest man and stay true to your word about making your coffee stronger,” Koenraad had said suddenly, and Niklas was sure to catch the smug tone. He opted to say nothing, pouring the tea into a to-go cup while the coffee brewed into another. Pressing a lid down on each cup, he turned, putting them down in front of him, still silent. 

 

“Should I taste it now and tell you if it’s wrong?” He was asked. He tapped his fingers on the countertop angrily, trying his best to bite his tongue and keep from saying something snarky. 

 

Biting his tongue did not work.

 

“How about I piss in a cup and you just drink that?” Koenraad’s face was blank for a brief moment but soon his lips curled into an arrogant smile that Niklas found far too attractive for his own liking, and he chuckled. 

 

“You’re bold, Niklas, i’ll give you that.” He grabbed both cups and left then. Dmitri whistled, and Niklas turned to look at him.

 

“I thought for a second he was going to punch you, and I was going to have to break up a fight. And let’s face it, you’re stronger than I am, so there’s no telling how strong he is.” Niklas nodded.

 

“Well, let’s be glad he didn’t punch me, I guess.” His friend laughed a little, putting the cleaning rag away.

 

“Hey Niklas?”

 

“What?”

 

“Why are your cheeks so red?” Niklas threw another napkin at him.

* * *

 

Much to Niklas’ dismay, Koenraad came in every Tuesday at three o’clock precisely. Each time he would order a chamomile tea and a black coffee, and each time he had some shitty comment to make just to get under his skin. To his chagrin, they always did. 

 

Dmitri didn’t waste his time taking Koenraad’s order any longer. Every time he’d come in, there’d be no other customer, and he enjoyed the petty comments he and Niklas shared. It was like some weird battle for nastier person. For Niklas, anyhow. Koenraad seemed to look at it like a game. How angry he could actually get him. Each time he’d just laugh, takes his drinks, and leave while Niklas muttered curses in his native tongue. 

 

“Koenraad. What an unpleasant surprise,” Niklas greeted curtly, already moving to make his order. He heard Koenraad chuckle, and he did nothing but roll his eyes, grabbing a cup to put the coffee into. 

 

“I need to add something to my order this time, Niklas. Dirty chai, extra shot. My little brother is in town.” Niklas put the lid on the coffee while Dmitri moved to make the last drink. 

 

“I didn’t know you had a younger brother,” he replied absently, putting the two finished drinks in a drink carrier.

 

“You never asked.” He looked up at Koenraad, opening his mouth to speak before closing it. For once, he had nothing to say. He was right, he hadn’t ever asked. He knew loads about Sarmis, and he often asked Mikkel questions about himself, too. That’s how he learned he had been in a long-term relationship with his cousin, Berwald. An odd couple, Niklas had decided, but he supposed if his cousin was happy, he could support him. 

 

“Well, I suppose you’re right. I just assumed Lise was your only family.” He finally replied, taking the tea from Dmitri and placing it inside the drink carrier. “I’m just so used to you being an asshat, it’s hard to think there are people in your life that actually like you.” Koenraad sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes.

 

“I thought we were bonding for a moment. And yes, I have multiple people who care for me. Believe it or not, Niklas, I have a handful of friends too.” It was Niklas’ turn to roll his eyes, and he pushed the carrier closer to him in hopes to get him to leave quicker. Koenraad made no move to grab it. He sighed. 

 

“What’s your brother’s name?” Koenraad put his hand on the carrier, lifting it up.

 

“Luca. What about yours?” Niklas blanched.

 

“I never told you I had a brother.” 

 

“You didn’t have to,” he replied, “i’ve seen a kid that looks like you walk in and start working. I assumed he was your brother. What’s his name?” He tapped his fingers on the countertop out of nervousness. 

 

“Dagfinnur.” Koenraad nodded. “I’ll see you later,” he said before walking out. Niklas decided to close up early that day.

* * *

 

The weeks preceding Christmas were particularly busy for all the shops. Though snow encased every building, the streets were bustling with people looking for gifts for their loved ones. When the cold became too much for them, they came in for a warm mug of hot chocolate and a couple of gooey cookies. Most of their regulars were too busy with their own customers to visit them. The only one to make an effort to come regularly was Sarmis, and Niklas was certain it had nothing to do with the man’s love of coffee. 

 

They decided to take the whole week of Christmas off, locking their doors that Sunday night. Dmitri had left Saturday to go back home to Romania, leaving Dagfinnur in his place at the shop. Niklas enjoyed running it all day Sunday with his brother, though they had a few spats here and there. They left that evening with a box of leftover baked goods. Berwald would be showing to their house later that evening, and they supposed they could eat them as they caught up.

 

It was nearly eight-thirty when Berwald had arrived from the airport. Mikkel had brought him, and reluctantly, Niklas agreed to house them both for the night. They had been apart for quite some time, and considering it was a time for bringing people together, he couldn’t just send Mikkel out the door. He grabbed everyone a drink, placed a plate of the leftover muffins and cookies on the table, and sat with the rest of them.

 

“How did you guys actually meet?” Dagfinnur had asked after while, deciding Mikkel wasn’t as obnoxious as he first thought. Mikkel tapped his chin in thought.

 

“I guess kinda through Koenraad. You know, the florist? I used to work with him, and Berwald came in to order flowers for one of the events they were hosting at his company. I could tell he was Swedish from the accent, so I tried talking to him in Swedish. He made fun of me. We argued for awhile, and then I kissed him. Not the most romantic story, but I don’t think it’d fit us if it were.” He looked over at Berwald, chuckling at the blush on his cheeks. Dagfinnur made a face as his retort, taking a bite of his cookie to keep from having to add to the conversation.

 

“You worked for Koenraad? Can I ask why?” Niklas asked, trying hard to keep the disgust out of his voice. Mikkel didn’t seem to notice it.

 

“Sure. He’s my best bud. We’ve been friends since, what, I was eight? He moved here after college to open up the flower shop with his sister. When I moved here, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. So, he let me work for him while I figured it out. S’a good guy. A big softie.” Niklas snorted. 

 

“I doubt that. I’ve met him. Not exactly a ‘nice guy’.”

 

“Oh, he must find you interesting if he’s not nice. He likes to play games with people he knows will take the challenge. He probably likes you more than you think.” Niklas’ heart thrummed against his chest, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he moved the conversation on to his cousin and his travels, asking him when he’d get to stay stationary for awhile. 

 

They all finally headed to bed at nearly two in the morning, shuffling their feet as they went. Berwald laid awake for a long while, staring blearily at the ceiling, shifting only when Mikkel’s elbow pressed too hard into his stomach. He turned on his side, facing his boyfriend. Their eyes met, and Berwald startled a little.

 

“Thought you were sleepin’.” He mumbled. 

 

“I was trying to. Why are you still awake?”

 

“Thinkin’.” He replied. Mikkel frowned.

 

“About?”

 

“About ya sayin’ Koenraad finding Niklas int’resting. Ya think he likes ‘im?” He grimaced at his partner’s loud chuckle, letting out a gentle sigh and rolling back over on to his back. 

 

“What I know is Koenraad has mentioned finding the owner of the coffee shop interesting. He said he can’t figure the guy out, and he’s going to bother him until he does. Take that as you want. Now can you please clear your mind enough to go to sleep?” Berwald grunted in affirmation, rolling onto his side once again, pressing his face into Mikkel’s shoulder. It didn’t take too much more time for him to fall fast asleep.

 

Three days before Christmas, Niklas went into town, to the shop next to his, for candles. The couple who owned the place had come to know him quite well, and the greeted him warmly when he entered. He smiled at them, moving to the back of the shop and picking up one of their newer winter scents. It smelled of pine and berries, and it reminded him of childhood when he’d take his brother into the snowy woods and they’d chase each other for hours. His lips curled upwards at the nostalgia as he put the lid back on the jar. 

 

“You enjoy smelling candles dreamily like that?” His smile was replaced immediately with a frown, and he turned his eyes up to look at the intruder of his thoughts. 

 

“Koenraad. To what misfortune do I owe this visit?” Koenraad shrugged, picking a candle labeled ‘Sugar Cookie’ up and bringing it to his nose to smell. 

 

“Luca likes candles. He’s over there.” Niklas turned to the direction he had pointed. The man he assumed was Koenraad’s brother was tall as well, shorter than the elder but only by a few counts. His hair was blonder than his siblings, and it seemed to droop in front of his eye. He was clean, well put together, well dressed. Niklas wondered how posh the family truly was. He turned back to Koenraad. 

 

“And instead of spending time with your brother, you come to bother me?” 

 

“He gets frustrated with me. Says I leer over him too much while he shops. Besides, what  _ friend  _ would I be if I didn’t come say hello?” Niklas didn’t like the way he said friend. His voice was heavy with sarcasm, and the word sounded like some sort of slur more than anything. The look on his face must have said a lot about how he felt about Koenraad for his brother came over and grabbed his shoulder. 

 

“Brother,” he said, tugging Koenraad back a little, “are you bothering him? He doesn’t seem to like you very much. Perhaps you should leave him be.” Koenraad snorted and rolled his eyes. Luca began again, this time looking Niklas, “I’m sorry if he’s made you angry. He can be difficult to get along with.” in Niklas’ direction, “Did my brother bother you? I’m so sorry. He hardly talks to people, and when he does it’s never nice.” 

 

“No,” Niklas replied, holding up a hand to stop the apology, “he’s not bothering me. Actually, this is possibly the nicest conversation he and I have had. I figured Koenraad spent most of his time shit-talking than actually being a pleasant human being.” Luca gaped at him for a moment, and he thought perhaps he had said the wrong thing. It took only a moment for him to burst out in laughter, patting his brother’s shoulder.

 

“You aren’t wrong,” he said between chuckles, “he’s only ever pleasant to Lise and I. I’m glad to have met someone who can take his attitude. I’m Luca, by the way.”

 

“I know. Koenraad has said very little about you. I’m Niklas. I run the coffee shop next door.” 

 

“Oh, you’re Niklas,” he replied, taking his hand and shaking it, “Lise told me about your first encounter with our brother. You must be some sort of saint to put up with him this much. Oh, and your chai was delicious, by the way. Probably the best i’ve had.” 

 

“Don’t kiss his ass on my accord,” Koenraad spoke up suddenly, “there’s no reason to be that friendly.” Luca looked up at his brother, the smile on his face glinting much more mischievously than it had before.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to one of your only friends? You speak of him so much. I just want to know him a little better. Are you jealous?” If Niklas hadn’t been completely sure Koenraad was incapable of feeling shame, he would have sworn he saw colour rise to his cheeks. The comment was brushed off with a roll of the eyes and a mumbled ‘whatever’. Luca giggled in retort. 

 

“Well,” Niklas began, picking up a couple of the wintery candles, “I should go ahead and leave. I just wanted a few new candles for the shop. It was nice to meet you Luca. Koenraad, let’s get coffee sometime.” He turned abruptly on his heel and walked to the counter to pay for the tealights in hand.

* * *

 

The Monday after Christmas was a very slow day. Almost all of the shops were in some sort of lull, no one wanting to leave the comfort of their homes and families to confront the cold weather and snowy sidewalks. 

 

Niklas had seen a couple of his regulars. Sarmis had stopped in to order the usual triple shot latte and to chat up Dmitri. He wasn’t sure how many dates they had gone on at this point, but he was certain their relationship was going to be a lasting one. He stayed to chat for twenty minutes before heading back to his own store, leaving Dmitri and Niklas in the company of each other. 

 

By two-thirty in the afternoon, Niklas sent Dmitri home, telling him it was pointless for them both to work miserably if they weren’t seeing any customers. Reluctantly, he left, reminding him to call if he felt short handed. Something told Niklas he wouldn’t need to call. 

 

When four rolled around, he was almost ready to lock up and call it a day. He had seen a grand total of two people after he sent Dmitri home, and he figured that would be the only business they’d see for the night. He was surprised, however, when the door opened. He looked up to greet the customer and pursed his mouth.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” he said lamely, “you’re a day early. You always come Tuesdays...at three.”

 

“Don’t sound so excited to see me,” Koenraad replied, “and i’m early for a reason. You wanted to get coffee sometime, so here I am.” Niklas frowned.

 

“I’m working.”

 

“Yes, I can see that from the outrageous amount of customers you have in here.” He wondered how unacceptable it would be to punch him right in the teeth.

 

“Fine, one cup of coffee.” He moved, grabbing two mugs off the shelf behind the register and preparing a fresh pot of coffee. Koenraad took a seat at one of the tables nearby, picking up the unlit candle.

 

“I’m not paying for it, either. You asked for this date, so this is on you.” Niklas nearly dropped one of the mugs, catching it right before it hit the floor. His face felt hot, and he didn’t dare turn around and face that embarrassment.

 

“It wasn’t a date. It was a...friendly offer.” He heard the other chuckle.

 

“Well, as a friendly offer, you should comp this one cup. I know you make plenty of business, Niklas, this shouldn’t be a problem for you. Unless you’re that stingy.” 

 

“You know,” Niklas started, turning to glare at Koenraad, “I think the person most stingy is the one with money trying to get free coffee. It’s fine. I will give you a free cup from the kindness of my heart.”

 

“Aren’t you just such a darling?” Niklas wondered how much energy he’d waste throwing the now full pot of coffee at him. He decided he didn’t want to clean up the mess that came with it. Instead, he poured coffee in both mugs, taking them both to the table and setting them down before taking a seat of his own. 

 

Koenraad said absolutely nothing as he sipped at his coffee. In fact, he seemed to pretend he was sitting there alone. Niklas tapped his fingers on the table agitatedly, taking big sips of his too hot coffee. It didn’t take long for his irritation to get the best of him.

 

“Are we just not going to talk? You came across the street to have coffee with me, and you have absolutely nothing to say? No questions, no shitty comments, absolutely nothing?” Koenraad put his mug down, turning his head lazily to face him.

 

“What would you like me to ask? About why you moved here? What your brother is like? How you know Mikkel and his boyfriend? If you want to talk so much, please, be my guest.” Niklas nearly slammed his cup down.

 

“Why are you such an asshole? Do you have a vendetta against me or something? Do you just enjoy being a dick and pissing me off?” 

 

“No,” he replied coolly, “not particularly. Just intrigued, is all.” 

 

“Intrigued,” Niklas repeated, tone mocking, “you’re just intrigued. Intrigued by what? That someone doesn’t put up with your shit?”

 

“Yes.” He paused, anger melting from his body. Koenraad seemed so calm, so at peace with his answer, and he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about it. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. Koenraad sighed.

 

“Yes,” he repeated, “I find that intriguing. It’s not every day someone can dish it out as well as I do. It’s almost like a game, don’t you think? Who can be the bigger asshole.”

 

“Well, you can be the bigger asshole,” Niklas said, “I don’t want to be. Besides, you’re the one who started this fucked up game. That definitely makes you the bigger asshole.”

 

“Maybe,” Koenraad took another sip of his coffee, “maybe it does. I don’t mind that. You still enjoy playing along.” 

 

“I don’t enjoy playing alo-”

 

“Then why do you do it?” Niklas blinked at him. Why did he play along? Why did he continue to feed into exactly what he wanted? He frowned at his own actions and then grimaced when the other laughed smugly. 

 

Koenraad took a long drink of his coffee and set it down. He didn’t say anything. He watched Niklas, instead, for any clue of what he might be thinking. He rested his chin in his palm, watching Niklas busy himself with his own coffee. His lips curled in a smile.

 

“Interesting.”

 

“What are you talking about now?” 

 

“Nothing,” he replied, “nothing at all. Let’s start over. Why did you move here?” 

 

“My brother was going to college here, and i’ve never been more than an hour away from him in my life.”

 

“Was he nervous?”

 

“No,” Niklas replied reluctantly, “I was.” Koenraad hummed.

 

“I see. How much younger is he than you?” 

 

“Eight years. He just turned eighteen.” He watched Koenraad nod, heard him hum again, and found this to be the most pleasant conversation he had ever experienced with this man. He found himself truly enjoying it.

 

“Dagfinnur, right? That’s what you said his name was? You must be quite attached to him.”

 

“I am,” he said, lifting his mug to his lips and finishing off the rest of his drink, “started raising him when I was eighteen.”

 

“Parents die?”

 

“Just left. Dunno where to. Don’t really care.” Koenraad frowned, and Niklas swore he saw sympathy in his eyes.

 

“Unfortunate. I can relate. My mother left after Luca was born and my father died right when I turned seventeen. Took care of both my siblings. I hated when Luca left for school, but he’s happy and doing well on his own. Guess that’s all you can ask for.” 

 

Niklas hadn’t ever thought about how close the three siblings must have been. He knew Lise worked with her brother, but it never struck him that Koenraad cared much for anyone, especially enough to feel broken over them moving away. It made him more human, as cliche as it sounded, and he felt as if there were a reason Koenraad made himself out to be an asshole.

 

Then again, Koenraad could just be an asshole.

 

“How old are Lise and Luca, then?” 

 

“Luca’s sixteen, really smart kid. Got into college early. Lise is twenty-two.”

 

“How old are you?” Koenraad looked up at him.

 

“Twenty-eight.”

 

“Your mother left you when you were twelve?” Niklas reprimanded himself for gaping. Koenraad shrugged.

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s whatever. I got over that a long time ago. Dad never did. That’s why he’s dead.” He spoke so casually about the situation that it worried Niklas, and he hesitated asking his next question.

 

“How did he die?”

 

“He shot himself while I put Luca and Lise to bed.” Niklas immediately felt thankful his parents had only left he and Dagfinnur and not shot themselves in the room over. 

 

“I’m-”

 

“Don’t say you’re sorry, alright? You had nothing to do with it, and sympathy never helped anyone.” His tone was soft, no malice in voice as he spoke. It took Niklas off guard, but he simply nodded and gave his quiet affirmation. 

 

They stayed silent for a long while, and Niklas thought about mentioning he had done what he said; share one cup of coffee with Koenraad. For some reason, he wasn’t quite ready to let their time together end. He turned the mug around, making the handle face the left side, and then turned it back.

 

“Didn’t mean to make you feel awkward,” Koenraad said suddenly, “just answering your questions.” 

 

“No, you didn’t- I don’t- I guess i’m just surprised. You keep it together so well.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked. Niklas thought the question over for a second.

 

“Well, your father killed himself after your mother left.”

 

“Both your parents left you to raise your eight-year-old brother, and you seemed pretty apathetic about it. I still have the only family that matters to me, so it’s not like i’ve missed out on much, is it?” Niklas pursed his lips, tapping his fingers on the table. 

 

“I...I guess not? I mean... I know Dagfinnur is the only person I’d care about losing. I guess...I guess you could feel the same about your siblings. I just- That’s rough.” Koenraad nodded but stayed silent. 

 

Niklas stood, grabbing both empty mugs and taking them to the back to be washed. He came back out, noticing how the other had made no notion to leave. He frowned a little, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. After several minutes, Koenraad stood, pushing the chair in and making his way to the front, leaning against the other side of the counter.

 

“Well, Niklas, this has been pleasant.” He nodded.

 

“I’d have to agree. We should do it again sometime. My house, maybe.” Koenraad looked at him, moved away from the counter, and shrugged.

 

“Maybe. Don’t expect me to be so open that time. It’s more fun pissing you off.”

 

“Yeah, well, that seems to be your only talent,” Niklas replied sarcastically. He received a chuckle in retort, and shortly after, he was gone. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt overwhelmingly empty when he left.

* * *

 

Niklas and Dagfinnur spent New Year’s Eve in the company of Dmitri and Sarmis. They had admitted, though Niklas wasn’t surprised, that they had been together since shortly after their first date. They congratulated the couple and spent the evening watching documentaries on various urban legends, drinking bottles of beer and chatting idly. None of them noticed when midnight rolled around.

 

“Oh,” Dmitri said, putting his bottle down on the coffee table, “it’s twelve-eighteen. Happy New Year, everyone.” 

 

“Happy New Year,” they replied. Niklas took a drink of his beer.

 

“Niklas, are you and the florist dating?” He almost spat his drink out at Sarmis’ question, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to catch anything that dared to spill. 

 

“Am I what?”

 

“Dating the florist,” he repeated, shifting so he could wrap an arm around Dmitri’s shoulders. Dmitri snickered and Dagfinnur stared at his brother, wide-eyed. 

 

“No,” he replied too defensively, “I most certainly am not.” Sarmis shrugged.

 

“Oh. I saw you both the other day drinking coffee together and talking. You were alone in their with him and seemed to be enjoying yourself. I just figured- I mean, Dmitri said you don’t get on with many people.” Niklas took a second to glare at his friend who simply put his hands up in surrender.

 

“It’s a reasonable question, Sarmis,” he told his boyfriend, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “I was also wondering what their relationship is. I mean, they hated each other's’ guts at first and now they’re drinking coffee all chummy. Strange, isn’t it?” Dagfinnur touched his brother’s arm to get his attention.

 

“Are you dating someone and you just didn’t tell me?” Niklas huffed, standing abruptly.

 

“I’m not dating anyone, him especially. Look, I jokingly told him we’d have to get coffee sometime, he took it literally, and we had coffee. No big deal. I still hate his guts.” He knew the last statement wasn’t true, but he was going to pretend it was.

 

“What’d you guys talk about?” Niklas looked at Sarmis who stated he was just ‘simply curious’ to know. He sighed.

 

“Well, we argued at first and then he asked me about my brother and I asked him about his siblings. That was...that was pretty much it. His brother is really smart and got into college early, and Lise just truly enjoys being around her family.” He left the rest unsaid, feeling as though Koenraad would appreciate that part of his life being secret. 

 

Then again, the man had told him, a complete stranger, about his childhood trauma. Perhaps he was one of those open books that didn’t mind people knowing it all. Niklas frowned. Koenraad really didn’t strike him as that person, and he wondered what it was about him that made him comfortable enough to share that information with him. Dmitri’s voice shook him from his thoughts.

 

“Are you going to answer Dag?”

 

“Huh- oh, sorry. What did you say, Dagfinn?” His brother eyed him warily.

 

“I asked if you two were making friends.” He made a face. Were they making friends? He had invited him over for coffee at his house, hadn’t he? And even when they saw each other and made harsh comments, they felt more friendly and less snarky and rude. 

 

“I- Well, I don’t know. Maybe? I invited him over for coffee. To the house, I mean. He wasn’t all that bad when he talked about something he enjoyed.” Dmitri tutted.

 

“Sounds like you have a little infatuation with him.”

 

“Please,” Niklas huffed, glaring scornfully at his friend, “if anything I find him less irritating. Besides, if I befriend him, we might get discounted flowers for the shop.” His friend laughed good naturedly, rolling his eyes.

 

“Whatever you say, Niklas, whatever you say.”

* * *

 

Koenraad came over the third Friday in January. Dagfinnur had graciously agreed to help Dmitri in the shop, and Niklas had time to tidy the house and make some refreshments before he arrived at two-thirty. He was exactly prompt, and Niklas wondered if that was just a trait he honed or if he was eager to be at his house. He didn’t ask but chose to let him in and tell him to make himself at home. Somehow, he didn’t look out of place.

 

“I’m surprised your brother isn’t home. You’ve met both of my siblings. Thought i’d meet yours,” he said as Niklas poured him a cup of coffee. He pursed his lips, pouring a cup of his own before replacing the pot and taking a seat on the couch.

 

“Well,” he started, “someone needed to help Dmitri at the store if I wasn’t going to be there. Did you just leave Lise all alone? Kinda rude.” Koenraad chuckled.

 

“No, she’s not all alone. There’s this guy, Antonio, who she begged me to hire. Totally hate him. Worst guy ever. I think she’s in love with him. I’m a good enough older brother to let things progress on their own without me stepping on their toes.”

 

“What,” Niklas asked, sounding more surprised than he meant, “you aren’t the super protective older brother type? I figured you would be.”

 

“Sure, i’m super over-protective. Doesn’t mean I don’t want my sister to be happy. Look, Antonio isn’t...he’s not a bad guy. I just don’t like him. I don’t really have a reason why; I just do not like him. If Lise does, well, i’m not going ruin that for her. I don’t think the guy has it in him to be mean. Not to her, at least.” He took a sip of his coffee and Niklas did the same.

 

“So...you hired him only because Lise wanted you to?” He nodded, and Niklas couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping on his face, “that’s so sweet.” 

 

“Well, i’m not a bad guy either.” No, he wasn’t, Niklas thought. If he learned anything from their last two encounters, it was that Koenraad loved his siblings more than anything else in the world, and he would do anything for them. It was similar to how he felt for Dagfinnur, he concluded, and he supposed they had much more in common than he’d ever give them credit for. 

 

“So other than flowers and your siblings, what are your interests? And don’t say me. I might have to punch you.” Koenraad laughed, an actual, proper laugh, and Niklas’ stomach fluttered in a way that made him sick. He did well to hide his grimace.

 

“Soccer, good tobacco, pretty girls, pretty guys, bunnies,” he listed, taking another sip of his coffee when he was finished. Niklas eyed him quizzically.

 

“Bunnies?” Koenraad nodded.

 

“Yes, bunnies. I have three at home. All Holland Lops. Is that shocking to you?”

 

“A little. You don’t seem like the bunny type of guy.” 

 

“Well,” he said, “I am. Three. Marlijn, Koekje, and Snoep. All girls. They have their own room in my house. I’m very dedicated to them.” Niklas laughed.

 

“That sounds like a joke.”

 

“I don’t joke about my rabbits, Niklas.” He sounded so serious that he couldn’t help but laugh again, being careful not to spill the hot coffee in his lap. Something about a man so tall and broad and serious owning three rabbits, being  _ so  _ dedicated to them, was hilarious. Owning a cat? Sure, he could see it. A big dog? Definitely. Rabbits? No, definitely not. His laughter subsided after a few moments.

 

“I see. I don’t have any pets. Dagfinnur is allergic to cats and he is afraid of dogs. Exotic pets don’t really do anything for me. We have fish tank, if that counts for anything.”

 

“I thought you had a bird? Or do you have one that chirps close by your house?”

 

“Oh,” Niklas said lamely, “Dagfinnur has a bird, yeah. I hate the thing. It’s a grey parrot. He’s a little asshole. Berwald taught it to call me snarky and now that’s all it ever says.” As if on cue, a voice from another room stated ‘Niklas is a snarky guy’, followed by some sort of whoop or whistle. He rolled his eyes. Koenraad laughed.

 

“So you guys have a bird that insults you.” Niklas nodded.

 

“Unfortunately. Dagfinnur’s had it since he was four. I wish the stupid thing would die already.” 

 

“Parrots live a long time. He could have that thing well into his thirties, you know that, right?” He groaned.

 

“Yes, unfortunately. I hate it.”

 

“I hate you,” a voice called from Dagfinnur’s room. Koenraad laughed again. Niklas sighed, getting up and shutting his brother’s bedroom door as to stop the bird from spewing more insults at him. He retook his seat, picking his coffee mug off the table and taking a sip. 

 

They were quiet for a little bit, the television their background noise. It was a comedy show from Norway that Niklas had seen on several occasions. This episode had aired before, and it wasn’t as funny the second time as the first. He ignored it, finishing off his drink and setting it back down on the coffee table. Koenraad did the same thing. 

 

“What about you? What are your interests?” He looked over at him, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch. 

 

“Well, when I lived in Norway I used to go snowboarding a lot,” he said, “that was really fun. I also enjoyed skiing and ice skating. I read a lot, too. Always have.” It was hard talking about himself, he found. He couldn’t remember what most of his hobbies were. Back home, he was always outside if he wasn’t working or at school. What he did, however, had left him the moment Koenraad asked the question. 

 

“So why a coffee business? Do you really just have such a passion for coffee?” The phrasing sounded almost patronizing, but from the tone of his voice, Niklas could tell it was an innocent question. 

 

“Well,” he began, “I do like coffee. We drink a lot of it in Norway. Honestly, I opened it because there wasn’t a shop here already thriving. It was a good business strategy. I get to make a lot of revenue this way. Besides, it’s more hands-on than being a CEO.” 

 

“Were you a CEO back in Norway?” He nodded.

 

“Yeah, I was. I went to business school and moved up in a company really quickly. It was fine...I made a generous living. I think I like working at the coffee shop more, though. It’s different being-”

 

“-around customers and on the front line.” Koenraad finished for him, “yeah, I know. Did the same thing back home in the Netherlands. Difference is that I absolutely hated working for that company. They were all a bunch of asshats. Worse than me. They just paid really well.”

 

“What made you want to be a florist?” Koenraad looked thoughtful for a moment.

 

“I really like flowers. Tulips, specifically. They’re my favourite,” he paused for a moment, looking thoughtful again, “I find arranging them very calming, and I feel pretty proud when they turn out well. It’s a good place to put your frustration into.” Niklas didn’t have to ask if he meant the frustration of what his parents did, he just knew. He nodded, figuring that was why he enjoyed messing with the machines at work. There was something therapeutic about steaming milk and drizzling caramel. 

 

“I get that. I mean, not enjoying flowers, but the frustration thing.” Koenraad nodded this time and they fell into a comfortable silence. 

 

“Why did you make that arrangement for me? The one your sister dropped by. The pink tulips.” Niklas said suddenly. Koenraad shrugged, turning his head to meet his eyes.

 

“I sincerely felt bad I pissed you off. I was extra gruff with you the first time we met. Don’t have a reason for it. I figured if Lise dropped it by, you’d not get your feathers ruffled again and I wouldn’t have the chance to make a bigger dick of myself.” 

 

“Well, you’ve still been a dick since then.” He chuckled, nodding his head.

 

“You’re right. I have. Just want to see how much you can handle. You know what they say, if you can’t handle someone at the worst, you can’t handle them at their best.” Niklas frowned, leaning back into his couch.

 

“And why does it matter if I can handle you at your worst?” Koenraad was silent for a long moment, standing from the couch and making his way to the front door.

 

“I don’t know yet,” he replied before he left. The tone in his voice made Niklas shiver.

* * *

 

Over the next couple of days, Dmitri hammered Niklas for details on the couple of hours he spent alone with Koenraad. He kept insisting that there had to have been something interesting that had happened and as his best friend, he had the right to know. Niklas sighed, thanking a higher power that Sarmis entered the store, taking all of Dmitri’s attention away from him. 

 

The more Sarmis came into the store, the more Niklas decided he liked him and approved of him for Dmitri. The man was patient and gentle and extremely good-natured. He never seemed annoyed with Dmitri’s overzealous attitude and excitable reactions. If anything, he seemed to adore them, and Niklas was glad his friend had met someone so perfect for him. 

 

“Niklas spent the other day with Koenraad, and he won’t tell me anything about it,” Dmitri whined to his boyfriend. He rolled his eyes and hoped that Sarmis wouldn’t push the subject. He laughed out an apology, and Niklas was glad he didn’t ask about it as well.

 

“Might be awhile before he sees Koenraad again, anyway,” he said to Dmitri. Niklas turned around, interest piqued, and leaned his hip against the counter.

 

“Why is that,” he asked. Sarmis looked at him and offered a small, melancholic smile.

 

“Apparently on Saturday he got really sick. Sick enough for him to actually go to the hospital. Lise didn’t really say much about it, but she seemed really worried. I think he told her to run the store, and that’s the only reason she’s there today.” Niklas frowned. Koenraad definitely wasn’t the type of person to go to the hospital over something small. Whatever it was, it had to be something pretty harmful. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Dmitri looked at him.

 

“Maybe Lise would tell you what’s wrong, Niklas. I mean, you and Koenraad talk pretty often. I’m sure she’d think you’re asking as a concerned friend.” He wasn’t being teasing this time, only sincere. Niklas nodded, telling him he’d be back before walking out the door and across the street.

 

The flower shop had a completely different atmosphere without Koenraad in it. It felt empty and giant, as if the man had filled it up with his own personality. He was greeted by a man he didn’t know- he assumed this was Antonio- and he found Lise over by a section of orange tulips, ghosting her fingers over the petals gently. Niklas felt sorry for her.

 

“Lise? Are you okay?” She startled, turning abruptly before letting out a sigh.

 

“Oh, Niklas. Yes, i’m fine.” She definitely wasn’t fine, but Niklas wasn’t about to argue with her.

 

“I heard the news about Koenraad. Can I ask what happened?” Lise seemed to visibly deflate, and he regretted say anything in the first place. His fingers twitched but he couldn’t get his arm to move to pat her shoulder. She took in a breath and met his eyes.

 

“He got sick Saturday night. He never gets sick, ever. And he was in so much pain and his fever was so high, I just took him to the hospital. He didn’t want to go because he doesn’t like making a fuss about things like that, but i’m glad I took him. They said if we had waited much longer, his appendix would have burst. He’s in surgery,” she looked at the time on her phone, “right now. I’m so worried. I’m sure he’ll be fine but…” Her voice trailed off and Niklas couldn’t help the look of sympathy that crept on to his face. He was able to pat her shoulder this time, and she gave him a weak smile.

 

“Lise, don’t worry so much.” Niklas glanced over at the source of the voice. The man was nearly his height with dark, curly hair and deep green eyes. His lips were curled in a small smile, and by the depth of his laugh lines, he figured the guy hardly ever frowned. 

 

“He’ll be fine. When he wakes up from surgery, he won’t be in any pain, and he’ll be happy as a clam! I promise, Lise, there’s nothing to worry about.” Lise seemed a little more at ease after he spoke, and she nodded. 

 

“I can’t wait to close up for the night so I can go see him. He hates hospitals so much; I feel bad for leaving him alone.” Niklas added the statement to the collection of things he didn’t know about Koenraad but now did. He offered Lise the best smile he could muster.

 

“I’m sure he’s okay. He’s a tough guy, isn’t he? If anything, he’ll be upset over the fact that you were so worried.” He had gotten her to giggle at that, and he felt the muscles in his shoulders relax. As long as she didn’t start crying, he’d consider this conversation a successful one. She picked up a vase from the ground and set it on one of the stands, turning it to the desired side and sighing.

 

“Niklas, you should visit him, too. I’m sure he’ll be happy for a friend to come see him and not just his sister.” Niklas immediately frowned.

 

“I don’t- We’re not- I mean...I’m sure I wouldn’t make him feel any better.”

 

“Please,” she begged, “he really seems fond of you. It might make him feel a lot better. I think he likes having someone to poke fun with that will give it right back. If not for him, then for me?” The look in her eyes was too much for him, and he let out a sigh.

 

“Okay, i’ll visit him later.”

* * *

 

Niklas didn’t arrive at the hospital until nearly seven in the evening. He had helped close up the shop and gone home to make dinner for himself and Dagfinnur. He had also whipped up a batch of cookies, thinking Koenraad and Lise would enjoy them more than whatever dessert would be at the hospital. He put the majority of them in a container, leaving the rest for his brother, before heading out the door and making his way through town.

 

The hospital was at the very edge of town, and thankfully Niklas had never had to go. It was a large building, larger than anticipated, and it looked like it had been renovated months prior. He parked his car, grabbed his container, and walked to the building, passed the automatic doors, and to the front desk where the woman told him he’d find Koenraad up three floors in room 307. He thanked her and made haste to the elevator.

 

The door was open when he arrived. Lise was seated in a chair talking animatedly in what Niklas could only assume was Dutch, stopping only when Koenraad turned his eyes away from her. She turned, smiled widely at Niklas, and stood from her seat. 

 

“Niklas, you did come. I’m so glad to see you.” He realized then the reason she had gotten up was to come over and hug him. Awkwardly, he returned it, thrusting the container of cookies into her arms as they parted.

 

“I brought you both cookies. I figured you’d enjoy them more than hospital food.” Her smile broadened, and he heard Koenraad snort from the bed.

 

“We appreciate that, really. Thank you so much. I’m actually going to go home really quick and grab some things for Koenraad. Keep him company for me.” She placed the container on the bedside table, gathered her things, and left them. Niklas took a seat in her place, giving Koenraad a onceover. 

 

In his opinion, Koenraad looked relatively the same. Perhaps a little more flushed. His hair was down instead of spiked up in the ridiculous fashion only he could pull off. He had dark circles under his eyes, and Niklas wondered if he had been so sick and in pain that he hadn’t been able to sleep properly. Otherwise, he looked completely normal. 

 

“How do you feel?” Koenraad shrugged his shoulders slightly, the gesture hardly detectable.

 

“Alright, I guess. Could be worse. Guess I should be thankful Lise worries the way she does or it would have been way worse.” Niklas nodded.

 

“She was near tears when I visited her in your shop today.” He watched him frown and wondered if he shouldn’t have mentioned that.

 

“She doesn’t deal with people getting hurt or sick well. I think when our dad- well, you know- she just...gets really scared. She probably thought this was going to kill me.” 

 

“Well,” Niklas stated, “she’s not wrong to think that. If your appendix had ruptured, you could have died.” Koenraad nodded.

 

“Yeah, I guess so. Like I said, I should be thankful she worries so much. I wouldn’t have asked her to take me to the hospital. Hell, I wouldn’t have called an ambulance. She would have found me dead in my room. I would hate to lose ‘best big brother’ status.” 

 

“Hey,” Niklas drawled playfully, “I’m the best big brother. You’re going to have to live with second best.” Koenraad chuckled, shaking his head and muttering a ‘you wish’ under his breath. 

 

They sat in silence for a little while. Niklas had thought the man had fallen asleep but heard him clear his throat after a moment. Truthfully, he had hoped he had gone to sleep. He looked like he really needed it. 

 

A nurse came in not too much later, a big smile on her face and eyes bright. She had a cup of water that she handed Koenraad, letting him drink it while she checked him over. When she was certain his stitches were still fine, and he didn’t seem to be in need of any pain medicine (Niklas wondered what he was on since he definitely seemed to be completely numb of any pain), she pulled away from him.

 

“Well, Mr. Boedeker, at this rate you’ll be ready to go home in two days. Are you sure you don’t need any pain medicine? You’ve refused it each time we’ve come in. It has to be uncomfortable.”

 

“I’m fine,” he assured her, waving her off, “I don’t need it.” She tutted at his response, turning her head to offer Niklas a smile.

 

“Is this your boyfriend?” Niklas went rigid.

 

“Yeah, his name’s Niklas. Brought cookies. Isn’t he the sweetest?” He almost choked, cheeks going pink. The nurse had confirmed that, yes, it was sweet of him to bring cookies, before she had left. Niklas glared at Koenraad.

 

“What the hell? Your boyfriend?” Koenraad laughed, leaning his head back against the pillow.

 

“I like keeping you on your toes. Your reaction was perfect. Never seen you so red. I think it might be your colour.” He rolled his eyes, letting out huff and crossing his arms. Perhaps he should have expected Koenraad to say that. A part of him told him he should have known whilst another told him he only reacted that way because of the butterflies he had in his stomach. He made sure not to listen to that part.

 

“She’s going to go tell everyone about the gay couple in room 307 and how I brought my ‘boyfriend’ cookies because I wanted him to feel better.” 

 

“At least I didn’t make you look like an asshole, right?” Niklas begrudgingly agreed.

 

They had fallen into yet another silence. This time it was because Koenraad had asked for a cookie, and Niklas so kindly obliged. The way he ate it was strange. He used both hands. One to hold the cookie and one to break off pieces. Niklas chuckled. 

 

During their silence, he found himself thinking. Why had Koenraad refused pain medicine the entire time he had been there? It was undoubtedly painful to have surgery. Niklas had gone under years ago when his own appendix needed to be taken out. He remembered the ache being agonizing and the medication being the only thing that would help subdue it.

 

“Koenraad?” 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Why have you been refusing painkillers? I remember getting your appendix taken out hurting. You can’t be that much of a tough guy.” Koenraad turned his head to look at him. With a closer look, he noticed that he did seem to be in some sort of pain. He frowned.

 

“Like I said, I don’t need them. Just because it hurts doesn’t mean you take painkillers for it. Besides, I can’t take them.” 

 

“Well,” Niklas replied irritably, “that’s cryptic.” 

 

“I used to be addicted to drugs,” Koenraad replied almost completely apathetic. Niklas felt horrible for asking in the first place, let alone being an ass for him not telling. It was shocking, honestly, that he used to be a drug addict. He had seemed so level-headed and strong willed that the idea of him being addicted to anything seemed impossible. Then again, he didn’t know everything about him. His curiosity was certainly piqued.

 

“Sorry...I didn’t- I shouldn’t have been so shitty about it.” 

 

“It’s fine. It’s not like I told you. Besides, that was six years ago. I got over the self-loathing from it. It was a mistake that I made, and now I make sure not to make it again. Hence why I refuse painkillers. I learned pain management, I can deal with this.” 

 

“Wow.” In Niklas’ opinion, Koenraad was the strongest man in the world. 

 

“I’m not some sort of superhero, Niklas, I just got off drugs. Was in rehab for three months. Wanted to leave sooner for my siblings, but Lise had told them not to let me. Again, I have to thank her for worrying so much. I might have just started using again if she hadn’t done that.” 

 

“So Lise is like...your impulse control?” Koenraad shrugged.

 

“Yeah, you could say that.” 

 

“Well,” Niklas said, “I understand that. To a degree. Dagfinnur’s mine. I used to be...pretty violent. He somehow got me to completely stop that.”

 

“I can’t imagine you being violent. Then again, I didn’t know you throughout your life. You could have been some thug, and I wouldn’t have ever guessed. Myself? I’m not violent. Never have been. Intimidate people with a look, I guess, and they decide not to mess with me.” Koenraad shifted in his bed, grimacing in a way that made Niklas want to reach out to him. He fought against that urge.

 

“I did a lot of...shady stuff when I was younger. Nothing with drugs or much crime. I’d just...get into bar fights a lot. I’d go to bars pissed and hoped i’d find someone feeling the same way. Ended up in the hospital a few times. Dagfinnur and I talked and...I never felt the urge to do it again,” he paused, watching Koenraad settle back down before continuing, “How’d you get that scar, then? The one on your forehead.”

 

“Oh,” Koenraad replied, touching the scar, “well, you do dumb things when you’re looking for more drugs. Someone busted my head open. Lots of blood, lots of stitches, lots of hours in rehab right after.” Niklas did his best not to gape.

 

“So that was when-?”

 

“Yeah, when I went to rehab. No brain damage, luckily.” 

 

“Well, that’s what you think,” Niklas joked. Koenraad chuckled.

 

Lise had entered, then. She had a bag full of her brother’s things and some books tucked under her arm. She put the bag down in an empty chair and placed the books on the bedside table, giving her brother a kiss on the cheek that he didn’t seem to mind and smiling at Niklas. She took a seat at the opposite side of the bed. 

 

“What did you guys talk about while I was gone? Anything interesting.” When Koenraad didn’t speak up, Niklas did.

 

“We have the nurse convinced we’re dating. If she comes back in, i’m going to call him horrible pet names. I hope that’s okay with you.” Lise didn’t seem fazed. In fact, she simply laughed loudly, telling him that she was more than ready to hear him call her brother the worst names he could come up with. Secretly, Niklas wished the nurse would rejoin them.

 

He didn’t stay too much longer. It was getting late, and he figured Koenraad would like to get some sleep at some point. He told the siblings goodbye, reminding the man to get better soon, before he left.

* * *

 

Niklas had visited Koenraad in the hospital two other times before he got out. One was to bring some soup that he seemed to like, and the other was when he brought a deck of cards. They had played poker for two hours while they chatted. Niklas learned all too quickly that if they had been playing for money, he would have been out a bunch. 

 

Koenraad didn’t visit them at the coffee shop that week. He was still recovering from the surgery, and he was advised not to do anything that could pull his stitches. To Lise this meant he wasn’t allow to do much but walk from his bedroom to the bathroom, couch, and kitchen. As obnoxious as it was, he found her doting sweet and was happy to know she was taking as much care with the flower shop as she did with him.

 

The following week, he was back at work. Lise still limited what he could do. Anything that exerted too much energy, she would ask Antonio to handle. Again, he found it a bit annoying, but he supposed it helped prove Antonio more useful than he first had thought. On Tuesday at exactly three in the afternoon, he headed across the street to the coffee shop, walking inside and being greeted by a person he recognized as Niklas’ brother. Niklas turned around, telling him he’d deal with this order, and turned to make two drinks- one chamomile tea and one black coffee.

 

“Hey Niklas, I need you to add a latte to that. I figured I buy Antonio a drink to thank him for working extra hard these last two weeks.” Dagfinnur glanced up at him and then his brother before realizing this guy was the one Dmitri always teased him about. What was his name?

 

“Alright, Koenraad, I think I can do that.” Koenraad, that’s right. 

 

“So, you’re the one Dmitri teases Niklas about,” he said. Koenraad turned his eyes away from Niklas to look at the younger. He couldn’t help but chuckle, especially when Niklas gave him such a nasty look.

 

“Oh yeah,” he asked, leaning against the counter, “teases him about what? Making a friend?” 

 

“No, more like about how you two are going to end up dating or some nonsense like that.” Niklas startled a little when Koenraad laughed.

 

“Nonsense, huh? We’ll see about that.” He picked up the drink carrier Niklas had given him and promptly left without another word, leaving both brothers to gawk stupidly after him.

 

“He’s either saying that to get a reaction, or he really means it,” Dagfinnur said after a moment. Niklas scoffed at him, rolling his eyes.

 

“Please, everything that man does is to get a reaction.”

* * *

 

To the surprise of everyone, Niklas and Koenraad spent one day a week together outside of work. Every Friday at roughly six-thirty in the evening, they would either spend time together inside the comfort of one of their homes or going out to bars or to the movies. They always had a good time together, somehow never finding themselves running out of things to say and always confusing people when their insults ended in laughter from one of them. It didn’t take long for many people to assume them together. Niklas always corrected them, telling them that they were just good friends and Fridays were definitely not their date night. Koenraad never truly seemed to care. 

 

This Friday they had decided to spend the evening at Koenraad’s house. Lise was out on a date with Antonio, and Dagfinnur was at home studying with Leon. They had ordered takeout and were currently sitting on the couch, letting some mindless television program run in the background while they ate and talked. 

 

“You know, you shocked my brother the other day,” Niklas said in passing before taking another bite of his food. Koenraad arched a brow.

 

“Oh really? How did I do that?” 

 

“He’s not used to people being that open about their life. When you were over and he went to go get a banana or whatever, you said something casually to me about taking a week off to go back to the Netherlands to see your father’s grave. You used the phrase “offed-himself” when talking about how often you guys visit. He was worried he walked into something really personal.” 

 

“Oh,” Koenraad chuckled, taking a sip of his water, “I guess i’m used to just...putting it out there. After rehab, I can tell anyone almost anything in a detached way. I forget that it’s not normal sometimes.” 

 

“He asked if you were okay. Kinda strange for him. He doesn’t take interest in people like that usually.”

 

“Are you saying he approves of me? This means I can be your best friend, and he’d totally be fine with it.” Niklas rolled his, snorting.

 

“Dmitri is my best friend. You’ll have to be fine with coming second.”

 

“I always come second,” he replied, emphasizing his statement with a wink. Niklas scolded himself for blushing, smacking Koenraad in the shoulder and turning his attention back to his food. 

 

Comments like that had become more common between the two of them, but Niklas never found them any easier to expect. Every time he would end up scoffing or flushing or sputtering on his drink. He had always prided himself on his stoicism, but somehow the man knew just how to work out a reaction. He wondered what it was that took him off guard every time.

 

“Besides,” Niklas said after a moment, “I don’t think you’d count me as your best friend. I bet that’s your sister. She’s the only other friend you can get.”

 

“Don’t be too sure, Niklas,” Koenraad laughed. “I have more friends than you’d think. And Mikkel would be my number one best friend. Known him since I was-”

 

“-eight,” Niklas finished for him, “Mikkel told me. I forgot you two were friends, actually. You don’t hang out much.” 

 

“No. He’s been spending as much time as he can with Berwald. I bet they announce their engagement any day now.” Niklas choked on his food.

 

“Engagement? Berwald didn’t say anything about getting engaged.”

 

“Mikkel let it slip to me. It’s a big secret. Something about wanting to tell everyone at once. You better act surprised when they spring it on you.” 

 

“No,” he responded playfully, “i’m going to tell Mikkel how his ‘best friend in the world’ can’t keep his mouth shut for five seconds and ruined his engagement announcement.” Koenraad laughed at his reply, shaking his head.

 

“Don’t do that. He’ll be pissed. Besides, your cousin might be upset. Wouldn’t want that, would you?” 

 

“I guess not,” he said after a moment. “I’m glad they got engaged, though. Berwald seemed really happy at Christmas. Can’t wait for their wedding.”

 

“Before you know it, they’ll be trying to adopt or get a surrogate. Mikkel’s totally ready to be a dad. From what I heard from Berwald, I figure he is too.” Niklas nodded.

 

“Yeah, he’s ready to be a father. He’s really good with kids. I can’t imagine him not having one of his own, you know?” It was Koenraad’s turn to nod. 

 

They stopped chatting in favour of watching TV and finishing their food. It was comfortable just being in each other’s company, and Niklas found himself quite relaxed on the leather couch, settling back after placing his plate on the coffee table. He sat with his legs criss-crossed, turning his torso to face his friend. Koenraad also put his plate down, twisting to do the same. Niklas was the first to speak.

 

“What about you?” 

 

“What about me?”

 

“Do you ever fantasize about getting married and settling down with a kid or two?” Koenraad’s grimace turned into a look of thought, and he let out a little bit of a sigh.

 

“Married? Maybe. Kids? Probably not.”

 

“No?” Niklas asked, clearly shocked, “you raised your siblings and don’t want kids? Did you just have enough or-?” 

 

“I’m afraid of being a dad.” The answer was clearly not one he expected, and his eyebrows furrowed together. It wasn’t like Koenraad to be afraid of something. In fact, this was the first time he was hearing him speak about any sort of fear. 

 

“Afraid? I can’t see you being scared to be a dad.” 

 

“Kids are impressionable. I’m lucky Luca turned out the way he did. Lise shielded him from a lot of the stupid shit I did. I don’t want to...fuck up something in my life again and have to explain that to my own kid. So, I don’t really plan on having kids. That could change, who really knows? What about you?” 

 

“Uh, well,” Niklas stumbled over his words, still a little shellshocked from the explanation he had received, “I’d like to settle down at some point in my life. Kids? Yeah, I think...I think i’d like to have at least one.”

 

“Well,” Koenraad started, taking a drink, “if anyone’s going to be a good dad, it’s going to be you.” Niklas’ heart swelled.

* * *

 

In late July, business was booming for all of the shops in town. Dagfinnur and Leon had come to help Dmitri and Niklas in the coffee shop just to keep up with the rush. They were making way more drinks than usual, and the tips that followed made it all worthwhile. Every customer that had found themselves staring at the menu had been polite and kind, and Dagfinnur was happy he didn’t have to deal with people screaming in his face about something not containing enough espresso. 

 

Across the street, Antonio swept fallen leaves and petals from the walkway. Koenraad had hired another employee, a moody brunette with a sharp tongue and short temper. The first time Niklas had met him he had called him an asshole. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind why Koenraad was so quick to hire a guy like that, and Antonio seemed to take the insults very well. 

 

It was only Antonio and Lovino in the shop for the next two weeks. Lise and Koenraad had returned to the Netherlands with their little brother to visit their father’s grave and for a mini vacation. Niklas supposed his next two Fridays would be rather boring without his friend to bother him. He had plans with Dmitri for one of them but the next would be spent in solitary. His younger brother would be spending the night with Leon and his brother.

 

When Friday afternoon rolled around, the four found themselves in a lull. It was just after four, and no one walked the streets any longer. Niklas had sent Dagfinnur and Leon home, telling them they had done enough for the day. They made no time scuttling out the door to freedom, and Dmitri laughed, cleaning up messes that had been left behind from the previous rushes. When it turned five and they still hadn’t seen a customer, they locked up, leaving the shop for Dmitri’s apartment.

 

They were greeted by Dmitri’s dog upon arrival. Lupei, he was named, ran to them with a wagging tail and gave their hands slobbery kisses. Niklas patted the dog affectionately on the head, taking a seat on the couch while Dmitri grabbed them both a much needed drink. He joined Niklas on the couch shortly after.

 

“Usually we don’t hang out until Sundays, Niklas, were you really that in need for companionship?” It was a joke, he could tell, and chuckled a little, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Well,” he started, taking a sip of the wine Dmitri had handed him, “I won’t lie. I’m so used to hanging out with Koenraad every Friday that it would have been weird to be alone in my house.” 

 

“So you miss him?” Niklas stared at him. He hadn’t yet equated the feeling to missing Koenraad yet. His Friday would have just been boring without some sort of company, wouldn’t it? After all, he was used to the long hours he and Koenraad would spend together, chatting about everything and nothing at all. The more he thought about it, the more he realized Dmitri truly didn’t fill that longing. He frowned in spite of himself.

 

“I- Well- I never really...considered that. I suppose I do, yes. Or at least his company, in the very least.” He hated the way Dmitri laughed at him.

 

“I knew it. You do miss him. I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to see how infatuated you are with him. I’m surprised you haven’t kissed him yet.” 

 

“Kissed him,” Niklas scoffed, “why would I do that? We’re friends, Dmitri, nothing more.” 

 

“You like him, he likes you. You light up when you see him, and you’re always so happy after you’ve spent your Friday night with him. And he’s the same way. I would know, I befriended his sister. You just don’t like to admit that you have a thing for him.”

 

“I don’t have a thing for him,” Niklas hissed. “You just like to see things that aren’t there.” 

 

“I like to read the atmosphere. Clearly you two were made for each other. You’re so willing to open up to him, Niklas. He makes you happy, he challenges you. Why are you so worried about being happy?” Niklas frowned again. He hated that his best friend could read him just like a book. Then again, that’s what best friends did, wasn’t it? He took another drink of his wine, nearly draining the glass, and sighed. 

 

He was silent for a long while, and Dmitri respected that. There was a lot to think about, starting with working out his feelings for Koenraad. They had become very close, that much he did know, and the majority of the time he found his chest tight with giddiness and his stomach fluttering with some unknown feeling that made him sick. He supposed it could be the longing desire of closeness to the man. Just the thought of the two of them doing anything affectionate made him so happy, he felt nauseous. 

 

“I…” His voice trailed off, and Dmitri looked at him expectantly. “I think you...might be right. Not that i’m afraid to be happy, but that I-”

 

“-like him. Yes, I know i’m right. It’s obvious. Even your brother noticed. He told me it was nice to see you so happy, so Koenraad already has his approval.”

 

“Can I ask why you seem so sure he likes me? You hardly talk to him.”

 

“You’re right,” Dmitri replied, taking a sip from his own glass, “I don’t talk to him. But I talk to Lise. Did you know you’re the only person he’s that open with? She said he doesn’t even tell her the things he tells you.” Niklas felt himself flush, turning his body just slightly away from his friend.

 

“He said he’s always so open.”

 

“Well, he’s not according to his sister. I think he’s just open with you because he feels safe and comfortable. He really, really seems to like you, and I think you go after that.” Niklas stared into his near empty glass of wine and nodded.

 

“Maybe…”

* * *

 

The following Friday had been a lot busier. Niklas and Dmitri ended up staying late with some last minute customers. They had a record high in earnings for their store, and though they were both exhausted, they couldn’t help but have a tiny celebration before they left for the evening. Niklas was actually happy he would have the night to himself to relax. He grabbed a beer, turned on a movie, and flopped happily on the couch to spend the remainder of the evening.

 

After his fourth bottle of beer and two shots of vodka, he found himself lost in thought, no longer paying any mind to the movie had turned on. His thoughts were filled with his friend away with his siblings, and his heart ached in longing to see him. He picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and hit the call button, placing the phone to his ear before he knew what he was doing. He hoped Koenraad wouldn’t answer and that he could instead leave a voicemail, not that he really had a clue what to say. 

 

“Hello,” a voice answered, thick with sleep. He cursed himself.

 

“Hey...uh, i’m sorry I woke you. I shouldn’t have- I don’t- there’s not really a reason I called. I should just...let you get back to sleep.” Every time he stumbled over his words, he felt angrier with himself, and he hoped there was no trace of irritation in his voice.

 

“Niklas...are you drunk? Is everything okay?” Shit. Now Koenraad sounded wide awake and worried. Niklas bit back a groan.

 

“Not drunk. Maybe tipsy, maybe a little more. I’m fine. I just...I don’t know why I called.”

 

“Did you need to talk?” He went silent for a moment. Yes, he thought, he did need to talk. If anything he needed to hear his voice. He told himself not to say that.

 

“Yes. I miss you.” Niklas winced at himself. “I-I mean...fuck.” 

 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and Niklas worried that Koenraad had hung up. He pulled the phone from his ear for a moment, making sure they were still connected, and sighed in relief when he saw that they were. He placed the phone back to his ear and waited for a response. 

 

“I miss you too.” Niklas found himself tearing up, and he hastily blinked back tears, bringing his knees up to his chest.

 

“When are you coming back again? I...really want to see you. We have a lot to talk about in person.” His voice was shaky due to the swelling of his vocal chords from holding back tears and it cracked when he admitted to wanting to see him. He heard Koenraad sigh on the other end. Niklas could almost see him: sitting up in bed, hand in his messy hair holding his head, eyes half-closed.

 

“I’ll be back tomorrow at four-thirty. Can I drop by your house at five-thirty? We can talk then.” 

 

“Don’t you want to have time to settle back in? I’m sure you’ll be tired.” Koenraad laughed at his concern, and Niklas felt that familiar tightness in chest and fluttering his stomach.

 

“I want to see you.” Niklas couldn’t tell if the noise he made in response was a laugh or a sob.

 

When he woke up the next morning, he was still on the couch, head throbbing dully. He smelled coffee, and he blinked blearily at the kitchen, shocked to find his brother at the stove, flipping a pancake. He stood slowly, stretched his back, and moved to get himself a cup of coffee. He inhaled the scent, sighed thankfully, and took a sip. Dagfinnur looked at.

 

“You slept on the couch. There were a lot of bottles of beer on the coffee table. Are you okay?” Niklas smiled at his brother’s concern.

 

“I’m fine, Dag. I drank a little too much. Might have done something stupid that I don’t think i’m going to end up regretting.” 

 

“Well,” Dagfinnur said, turning off the stove and sliding a plate of pancakes towards his brother, “that’s kinda vague. What did you do?” Niklas took another drink of his coffee, thanking him for the food once he swallowed.

 

“I...called Koenraad last night and told him I missed him. Kinda admitted my feelings for him.” To his surprise, Dagfinnur snorted.

 

“It’s about time.” 

 

“Excuse me?” Niklas set his mug down on the counter, picking up the jar of jam and spreading some on his pancakes. Dagfinnur rolled his eyes.

 

“It’s about time,” he repeated. “About admitting your feelings, I mean. It was more than obvious you were falling in love with him.” 

 

“Falling in love?” The phrase made him feel excited and nervous at the same time. His stomach fluttered the same way it did when Koenraad had laughed, and he somehow knew that was the right feeling. He had fallen for the douchebag that owned the flower shop across the street, and he couldn’t be happier.

 

“Yes, you fell for him. And i’m pretty sure he fell for you. You guys need to talk this all out.” 

 

“We are,” Niklas said through a bite of pancakes, “tonight. He gets in at four-thirty and he’s coming here after dropping off his sister.”

 

“You need to shower, then. I’ll just go back over to Leon’s. I’m sure he won’t mind. I don’t want to be here to ruin the moment or whatever. And I don’t want to be here for what follows.” He shuddered. Niklas threw a piece of pancake at him. 

 

Dagfinnur had left at three-forty-five. This gave Niklas plenty of time to hop in and out of the shower, clean up the house, and get dressed. Truth be told, he wasn’t prepared for the conversation ahead of him. He had no clue what he was going to say, what Koenraad was going to say, and it scared him to think he was going to have to figure it out whether he wanted to or not. 

 

It was five-twenty-three when he had finished cleaning. His heart thrummed uncomfortably in his chest as he waited, seated on the couch with his fingers tap-tap-tapping on the armrest. It was five-twenty-eight, two minutes early, when he heard his doorbell ring. He swallowed thickly, willing his stomach to get out of his throat and made his way to the door. His hand shook as he grabbed the knob, and he turned it and pulled the door open slowly. There, Koenraad stood. He looked tired, perhaps a little nervous, and Niklas wondered if he was experiencing the same anxiety. He let him in. 

 

“I don’t even want to exchange pleasantries, Niklas, I just want to go ahead and just...talk through this.” Niklas shut the door, leaning heavily against it when Koenraad spoke. He let out a shaky sigh, clearing his throat.

 

“Okay...Let’s talk this through. I know I called you...not completely sober, but I meant what I said. I did miss you, and I did want to see you, and now that you’re here I feel stupidly happy.” Sometimes Niklas hated the way the man would show no sign of emotion on his face. This was one of those times. He just stared at him blankly, listening to what he had to say and nodding to confirm he had heard. Niklas swallowed hard. 

 

“I love you.” Koenraad had said it so simply, so easily and thoughtlessly, as if it were the only thing he needed to say. Niklas clenched his jaw, heart jerking in his chest. His eyes felt wet, and he blinked them several times to keep back tears. 

 

“I love you,” he repeated, “I love you more than i’ve ever loved another person. You’re the easiest person to talk to, the most patient person i’ve met, the person with the heart of a saint. I love you, Niklas.” Niklas took an uneasy step away from the door. Koenraad watched him. 

 

“When did you realize it?” His voice shook, and the man blew out a breath unsteadily.

 

“After you called me. I stayed up the rest of the night thinking about it. Now it’s the most obvious thing in the world to me.” Niklas laughed breathlessly.

 

“It’s the most obvious thing in the world to me, too.” Koenraad arched a brow.

 

“That I love you?” 

 

“No,” Niklas replied, taking another step forward, “that I love you.” He took the remaining two steps to Koenraad, grabbed his scarf, and pulled him down for a kiss. It was easily reciprocated. Koenraad wrapped his arms around his waist, bringing him as close as he possibly could. The kiss lasted several seconds, and then they pulled away.

 

“Better than I fantasized,” Niklas mumbled against his lips. He heard Koenraad chuckle, felt his warm breath against his lips, and he couldn’t help but return it.

 

“So you had fantasized about it, then.” 

 

“Stop talking and kiss me.” He pressed their lips together once again.

* * *

 

“I made this for you.” Koenraad gave the little girl a small smile, taking the picture she had drawn and squatting down next to her to look at it. It was a crudely drawn photo of him, Niklas, and herself. They were all holding hands and each one of them had big, bright smiles on their faces. 

 

“This is amazing, Liv, did you draw it yourself?” She beamed at him, nodding her head. Niklas watched the two of them, smile on his lips, and made his way over. He squatted down on the other side of his husband, resting his chin on his shoulder to look at the drawing himself.

 

“What’s this?” 

 

“Liv drew a photo of the three of us.” Liv smiled big at Niklas, and he returned it.

 

“Wow, it’s really good. I couldn’t even draw this well at your age.” She told him a soft ‘thank you’ and went off in search of more paper and crayons. Koenraad stood, looking over at his husband. Niklas took the paper from him, giving it another look, smiling fondly. 

 

“I think we should sign the adoption papers today, Niklas. We already have her room made up, and there’s absolutely nothing stopping us. She already looks at us like we’re here family; let’s just make it official.” Niklas felt butterflies in his stomach, and he leaned up, pressing his lips chastely to Koenraad’s.

 

“I can’t believe you’re the one convincing me to sign the papers, Mr. I-Don’t-Want-Kids.” 

 

“I couldn’t see myself having kids with anyone else. Now, can we please sign the papers? I want to see the look on her face when we tell her we’re taking her home.” Niklas glanced over at Liv, watching concentrate hard on her new drawing. He turned back to his husband, nodded, and followed him into the office to start their paperwork. 

 

It had taken a little over an hour to get through all of the papers. By the end of it, Niklas was twirling the ring on his finger, anxiously awaiting the approval while Koenraad bounced his leg up and down, tapping his fingers idly on his knee. He stopped fiddling with his ring in favour of taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. The door opened, and Liv stepped in, clearly confused and happy to see them. She ran to Koenraad and climbed into his lap. 

 

“Liv,” Niklas said gently, “we’re going to take you home today if you’re ready.” Tears immediately flooded her eyes, and she climbed over Koenraad’s lap into his, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. He hugged her close. 

 

“Come on,” Koenraad urged softly, lips curled in a kind smile, “let’s go home.” 


End file.
